


Round 1, Fight!

by MarsDragon



Category: Fatal Fury, King of Fighters
Genre: Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: Like my Castlevania ficlet collection, this is for all the scraps of SNK fic I put out.





	1. KoF, Mai and King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretend this takes place in an eternal 98, because dream match never ends.

"Oh...oh, that's too bad. Well, if you can't, then you can't. Don't worry about it." King put the phone down, stretched until her back popped, and sighed. "Kasumi can't make it. Her mom got sick, so she's staying home to take care of her."

Beside King, her so-called team leader gave her own massive sigh. "No Kasumi, no Chizuru, no Yuri...everyone's got other plans! How could they do this to us?"

"Well, perhaps if a certain unnamed someone had remembered to account for not having Yuri again, like we haven't for _literally years_ , maybe we wouldn't be calling every single woman fighter we know _the day before registration_!" 

Mai pouted. 

King let her head drop to her hands. "All right, all right, no use crying over spilt milk. How about that waitress you mentioned? What's her name...Shang-something?"

"Xiangfei!" Mai's face brightened for half a second before falling again. "No good, I already called her. Said she has a stomachache."

"A stomach...does she know the actual tournament isn't for another month?!"

Mai shrugged. "That's what she said. And something about school? It was pretty loud over in the restaurant, I could hardly make out a word." She idly spun a fan around her fingers as she spoke. "Oh, I wish Yuri hadn't left us. She was so cute and sweet."

"Can't be helped. Once Takuma retired the Kyokugen team needed a third member. And Ryo is her brother." 

"He's your boyfriend." King's glare just made a long, slow smile spread across Mai's face. "How _is_ that going, by the by?"

"None of your business." Mai's mouth opened again, but King beat her to the punch. "And I notice you aren't exactly on the Hungry Wolves team."

"Oh, that," Mai tossed her fan in an airy wave. "I prefer the freedom of the Women's team."

"You just like being able to call yourself leader while not doing any of the work," King grumbled, but quietly. 

Silence fell across the pair as they stewed, deep in thought.

"...Leona?" Mai threw out, cautiously.

"Will never leave the Ikari Warriors team and you know it," King replied. "How about Blue Mary?"

"Going with Yamazaki and Billy again. You know, I still don't know how that team gets along enough to make it past the preliminaries."

"There are some mysteries better left unsolved," King said with finality. 

Mai made a vague noise of agreement. "Oh, but thinking about it...why not Lily?" At King's blank look, she elaborated: "You know, Billy's little sister?" 

"...Billy has a little sister?" King blinked. "Billy has a little sister who can fight? How have I never heard of this?"

"Well..." Mai waved her fan again. "She does know bojutsu. She's not as good as Billy, of course, and she doesn't really like fighting, but she's /so/ cute! You'd never believe she and Billy are related! She's got those big, clear blue eyes and long blonde hair and never has a bad word to say about anyone, and-"

"Mai."

"What?"

"The Women's team is _not_ a place to assemble girls you think are cute!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For 100 words of a fandom the rest of the community doesn't care about, which is all I do anyway.


	2. Garou, Terry and Rock

Terry climbed the steps to his apartment, feeling more tired than he had in awhile. That Tizoc sure wasn't a pushover; his back still hurt from that Izu...the drop. 

But it had gone to three rounds and Tizoc had barely been able to pull off his big finish, so it wasn't like it was a total loss. The fans had loved it, and Tizoc turned out to be a pretty great guy outside of the ring. Not much point in regretting the past, was there? The aches and bruises were the marks of a good fight. Nothing to be ashamed of.

He hummed to himself as he opened the door, mostly thinking about dinner, and stopped dead when he saw what was inside. Then he threw on his best smile and walked over to the mopey figure on the couch. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you back yet."

"Terry." Rock lifted his head and gave Terry the kind of woebegone look he usually associated with basset hounds. "You too, huh?"

"Yep, happens. Lemme see your face." Terry pushed Rock's bangs out of the way and gave him a once-over. "I don't see signs of a concussion or anything, and looks like you've already got some ice." Rock was going to be wearing a nice set of bruises and a hell of a black eye for the next few days to match the goose egg on his head, but other than that he looked all right. He'd already bandaged his hands, though Terry made a note to redo them more neatly later. 

For the hundredth time that year, Terry thanked his lucky stars all the neighbors knew they were martial artists. 

Rock had taken the opportunity to do his own check-up on Terry, and came back with: "You look well enough to get your own ice. Anything worse than your face?"

"Ha ha, I'm pretty tough. Don't worry about it," Terry said and regretted it when he couldn't quite hold back the hiss as he plopped onto the couch himself. 

"Then what was that just now? Hm?" 

"Eh...took a few hits. I'm fine." Rock glared until Terry gave in and took off his jacket. When had the kid gotten so sharp? At least he'd gotten the medics to patch him up a bit at the ring.

Terry put up with Rock's poking and prodding, which just turned up a shrug and "You're not bleeding; good luck sleeping with all those bruises. Nothing broken?"

"Don't think so. Wrestlers know how to land you." His ribs were sore as hell, but that was normal. Terry settled back down, this time being careful of his back, and looked over at Rock. "So, what happened?"

Rock looked down, the miserable expression back on his face. "It was that Kyokugen guy. I almost had him, Terry! We were both reeling, and I-"

"...got desperate and sloppy and left yourself wide open?" Terry grinned as a grouchy look slipped into Rock's moping and knew he was right on the money. "Happens to the best of us, rookie. You can't underestimate Kyokugen. Sure, most slobs can't be bothered to put in the time, but you get a real dedicated katera guy-"

" _Karate_. Ka-ra-te."

"Just what I said. Anyway, you get one of the real hard workers and they're gonna be the best practice in getting your ass kicked you'll ever get. Nothing for it but to pick yourself up and train harder. We'll wait a few days for the bruises to fade and get to work on keeping your head. Maybe go over to the dojo and get you some proper spars in...I'll talk to Ryo." The mopey look was still there, so Terry wrapped his arm around Rock's shoulder, waited through Rock's irritated cat imitation, and said: "Buck up, kid. I didn't win my first tournament either. Get back up and use this to become stronger, okay?"

"...you won King of Fighters '91." 

"Yeah, and it wasn't my first tournament. I started about your age," younger, but Terry _really_ didn't want to think about those first few, "entered as many as would have me, and lost almost all of them."

Rock chewed on that for a bit, and Terry could see the idea working through his head better than it had the last few hundred times Terry had said it. Good. Rock was a great fighter, and great fighters needed to eat dirt once in awhile. Kept 'em humble. 

"You started about my age..." Rock trailed off, frowned, and tried again. "But this is different. The invitation...my mom..."

Terry was quietly relieved this wasn't going to turn into asking for a reminiscing session. He didn't need that trip down the razor-lined sidewalks of memory lane. But the invitation...that was a nasty little wrinkle.

"Yeah, I know," he said, and leaned back against the couch, still careful of his bruises. "But it's not like it's hopeless. If you really want to try and track down information about her...there are things we can try." He'd avoided it for a decade, but Rock was old enough to take care of himself, and that was too old for kidnapping charges to stick. Hopefully.

"Billy still hates us, you know." 

"A little bird told me Joe and Lily were seeing each other again, so that's our in right there. And Billy's calmed down some. Not gonna say ten years is too long to hold a grudge, but it's worth asking. And there's Mary and her connections-" Terry didn't miss the way Rock stiffened at Mary's name. Geez. The jealousy had stopped being cute at thirteen. But he didn't say anything, so Terry went on. "-and I met a nice cop at the tournament. Kicked his ass, but got his phone number. He might have something."

"More than one way to catch a fish, huh?" The dark cloud hovering over Rock started to lift, and he almost looked like his usual self again. "It might work. Thanks, Terry."

"No problem. Hey, if you're feeling so much better, how about getting me a couple beers from the fridge?" 

The look Rock gave him was the epitome of long-suffering, but the kid sighed out a "Fine" and got up anyway. It didn't take him long to come back with a couple cans he tossed at Terry. "Here you go. One to drink, one for your head."

"Thanks," Terry said. "But it's one for you, one for me. Here."

Rock gave the can and Terry a long, dubious look. "Terry, I'm seventeen."

"Exactly the right time to learn how to drink responsibly." Terry always wondered which parent Rock had gotten all the discipline from. It sure wasn't him. "Trust me, Rock, you're not going to get anything like smashed off of one of these." 

Rock still looked dubious, but took the can anyway. 

"All right, your first tournament! Cheers!"

"Cheers." 

The cans came together with a small clink. Terry took a long drink, enjoying the refreshing coolness. Nothing like a cold beer after a long, hot day.

Beside him, Rock took a tentative sip. The second the beer hit his tongue his face froze, eyes wide. "This is disgusting!"

"Now, now..."

"How do you even drink this!?" He shoved his can at Terry, almost spilling it. "Here, yours. I'm finishing off that apple juice."

Terry shook his head. "Kids. No taste." He ignored the irritated "I have plenty of taste, thank you!" from the kitchen in favor of settling back and taking another drink.

A new King of Fighters, a missing mother, and inevitably, the shadow of Geese. Only Rock had gotten a personalized invitation with a lure; Terry and everyone else he'd checked with had gotten the plain version. It was blatantly a trap, which either said a lot about this Kain R. Heinlein's forethought...or his confidence. 

Rock was valuable. Geese's only known child meant a lot in the underworld. Terry had spent the past decade or so doing his best to keep the vultures away, but it looked like the honeymoon was coming to an end. It was sheer luck this Kain had been so incredibly confident or just plain dumb enough to bet it all on Rock winning his first tournament. Terry had never expected an attack to come baited with Rock's mom - stupid of him, he knew perfectly well how much Rock missed her - and he'd never wanted to dig up more info than he had to. Cowardice, maybe. Just wanting the past to stay where it belonged. He should've known better. 

Kain's plans hadn't worked out this time. There wasn't enough information to know if he'd try again anytime soon, but Terry couldn't afford to leave it all to chance. Looked like it was time to dig into the underworld and open the Pandora's Box of everything Geese had left behind, even if it blew up in his face.

The situation had held until Rock was old enough to stand on his own. Small blessings. And the kid had grown into a fine young man. Anyone trying to lure him into the darkness was going to have their work cut out for them.

Terry took another sip of beer. Nothing to do but take the problems as they came and trust it would always work out in the end. Had worked so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tfw you're the main character but the player picked someone else](https://i.imgur.com/aOzqhdN.png)
> 
>  
> 
> [tfw you set up an elaborate plan for a fighting tournament to manipulate a protagonist with a hidden ability and he gets knocked out before the semifinals](https://i.imgur.com/aOzqhdN.png)
> 
>  
> 
> [(tfw when you go out to a fighting tournament and get your ass kicked but you had fun and made a new friend)](https://i.imgur.com/aOzqhdN.png)
> 
>  
> 
> Always been a little fascinated by how fighting games let you pick a canon to go with (until the sequel comes out). And until we get MotW2, who's to say that Butt DIDN'T win? Let's all live in that universe, just for a bit.


	3. Garou, Rock -> Terry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now behold my TRUE FORM.

Rock didn't really get computers. They mostly seemed to beep angrily and throw up incomprehensible messages that boiled down to: "Fatal Error: An idiot is trying to use me. I require someone who knows what he's doing or I will self-destruct." And he would've been happy to leave it there and stick to what he was good at, but Kain insisted that if Rock was going to help out he needed to be able to type for five minutes without the computer giving up and turning blue.

Only after long hours of patient instruction was he able to start up a web browser and navigate to a small martial arts enthusiast forum without too much trouble. But that was fine. It was actually pretty fun reading what a bunch of unrelated folks thought of King of Fighters, and some of the guys had good tips. 

He avoided his personal fan threads. Just too weird. Same for the Terry fan threads, usually. But he'd figured a thread called "holy shit is this what Terry Bogard was doing in the 90s" was good for a laugh, so he clicked anyway. Rock knew what Terry had been doing in the 90s, after all, and it was probably just pictures of Terry working some crummy job. Maybe even a picture of both of them way back when and he could wallow in nostalgia before getting pissed off.

> Okay this is gonna sound really crazy, but back in the 90s I went to a strip club and Terry Bogard was one of the dancers. Went back the next night and he was bouncing. No idea what was going on there but it was seriously him and I have pics for proof.

He hadn't expected this.

> dude seriously? isn't that illegal? are we gonna get sued?

The pictures were blurry and small, snapshots taken hastily and from far away. But Terry was still recognizable.

> I'm pretty sure taking pictures at a club will get you kicked out, yeah. I don't think those pictures are that bad, though? He's still got his pants on.

Rock had seen Terry naked often enough he could fill in the details on his own. Gyms and homeless shelters weren't known for their privacy. And he'd never thought twice about it before. Terry was Terry. The man who'd picked him up and taken care of him when no one else would. The only father he'd ever known.

> these are mostly making me want to work out. ultimate fitspiration

But seeing him half-turned, with that familiar cheerful smile slanted into something secret, seductive... Bending over to talk to someone in the crowd, hat shading his eyes... Shirt off and hip cocked deliberately to show off his long legs and broad shoulders...

> The only part of the routine I really remember is him doing a Rising Tackle 12 feet straight up to hang on a wire. It was...something else.
> 
> I need to work out now.

Rock knew exactly how Terry's muscles played across his back when he moved. Knew exactly what it looked like when Terry bent over and his hair slipped over his shoulder to frame his face. Knew how sweat would drip down Terry's firm chest after a workout, how he'd pant and wipe his face before turning to Rock with a grin...

> Jesus fucking Christ. Dude is unreal. (and yeah don't fucking take pictures of strippers, jackasses)

Rock had never really noticed it before, but now, thinking about it...Terry really was good looking, wasn't he?

> TOO LATE NOW. (no one cares about a shitty little tiny forum anyway lol chilll)

And Rock knew he shouldn't be thinking like that because Terry was his dad (the more and more Kain went on about Geese the more sure Rock got about that) and it wasn't right, but he was filled with a nervous sort of heat and no one would know anyway. He got his own office with a door that locked. Most everyone had gone home for the night already. The only people left were the workaholics and Rock, who didn't have a home to go back to anymore.

> Stripping is a way better way to earn money than most retired fighters end up doing. I mean, at least people WANT to see Terry Bogard naked. It's a valuable service.

That almost stopped him. The memory of the angry, disappointed look in Terry's eyes before he'd smiled and said he believed in Rock, even after Rock had given in to his evil blood.

But only almost.

> Gay.

All Rock could do was promise himself he'd somehow make it up to Terry later, once he'd found his mother and pounded Kain's stupid face into the pavement and gone home for real.

> You don't have to be gay to notice he's a fine hunk of man.

Right now his fingers were undoing his belt without conscious direction, slightly cool as they slipped into his pants and Rock remembered how it felt when Terry's strong arms lifted him up effortlessly, what it was like getting pinned and struggling against Terry's solid grip, and the rush of slamming that final blow against Terry's chest in the ultimate proof of his strength and skill-

> lol everyone shaking their fingers is jerkin it

-Terry's broad back, his rough hands, his hips, his eyes, his hair, his smile-

> Wait... OP, why were you going to a male stripshow in the first place?

Rock bit deep into his other hand and came without a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids don't pay for themselves and between good looks and the ability to work a crowd Terry would make mad bank as a stripper, you all know it.
> 
> Written for 100 words of being turned on by the wrong thing.


	4. Fatal Fury series, Billy/Duck

It was an hour after Geese died when Billy stormed down to the Pao Pao Cafe and Terry kicked his ass for the second time that night.

It was a month after Geese died when Billy was drowning himself in alcohol - all free, the Howard Connection might be in shambles but the name still meant something, goddammit - and sleeping in the gutter more often than not.

It was two months after Geese died when Duck King found him and dragged him home to Lily and Billy got the scolding of his life in the morning. It didn't help. Geese was dead, so what the hell was he supposed to do? 

It was two months and two days after Geese died when Billy paid Duck back by breaking some punks that thought they could run a protection racket. Dumbass pieces of shit. Billy had been running better at fifteen. Duck wasn't even grateful. 

It was three months after Geese died when Billy started offering regular protection for Lily and Duck. Cleaning up street trash was beneath him but helping Lily wasn't, and Duck kept dragging him home after the late nights. Stupid hippie. At least he had the smarts not to tell Billy no.

It felt good to use his bo again.

It was a six months and three weeks after Geese died when Billy could bring himself to visit the grave. It was covered in crap like flowers and crosses and fucking reeked of piss under all the incense. Couple stakes shoved into the ground too.

Billy poured some of Geese's favourite bourbon out on the dirt and just sat there. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He was nothing if he didn't belong to Geese Howard. Just another bottom-feeding scum sucker, like he would've stayed if Geese hadn't picked him up. And now...

Eventually he stood up and left, feeling as lost as ever.

It was a year, four months, and two days after Geese died when Billy caught a tip Terry was a couple states away. He drove all night and got his ass kicked in the morning.

It was two years after Geese died when Billy realised he was spending more time helping Lily with the laundry business and checking IDs at Duck's nightclub than beating the shit out of punks. 

He went and put some idiots that had been giving Lily looks in the hospital to make himself feel better. It worked for a bit.

It was two years and seven months after Geese died when Billy noticed that Duck had some nice eyes under the goofy goggles. He felt guilty about noticing, which was weird because Billy hadn't felt guilty about anything since he was twelve.

It was three years after Geese died when Ripper and Hopper stopped by his and Lily's new, shittier apartment. They spent the night drinking and reminiscing, celebrating the good old days and mourning the new. Both of them had landed on their feet - no one wanted their heads and they were all too well-connected to arrest - and Billy found he felt surprisingly well-disposed towards the bastards who hadn't even tried to stop Terry that night. They offered to put in a good word with their new boss and Billy turned them down. It just didn't feel right serving anyone but Geese. 

It was three years, six months, and two weeks after Geese died when Duck slipped under his guard and Billy didn't punch him for it. They weren't fighting anyway. Stupid hippie was surprisingly warm up against Billy's chest for the two seconds he was there.

It was three years and eleven months after Geese died when Lily came up to him with determination in her eyes and wine on her breath to say that she knew everything that had happened between him and Geese, had hated all of it, and was glad that asshole was gone. Except she didn't say asshole because Lily was a good girl, but Billy could hear it anyway.

He just rubbed her hair and stayed quiet. Didn't say a thing about her bad-mouthing about the man who'd saved them both from hell. Didn't seem worth it anymore. 

It was four years and three months after Geese died when Duck signed Billy up for some stupid Hawaiian dancing lessons. He wasn't any good at it, but he kept going back. His dumb flailing made Lily smile, at least.

It was four years and ten months after Geese died when Billy happened across Terry in London and got his ass kicked. Again. 

It was five years and two days after Geese died when a hurricane whipped through Southtown that knocked all the power out for hours. He and Duck ended up sitting together in the nightclub, drinking and smoking while they listened to the storm outside. Billy found out Duck was single and didn't have any groupies hanging off his ass, which felt pretty weird. Not that Billy'd hang off Duck's ass, but... 

He kissed Duck and was ready to blame it on the drink until he got kissed back. 

It was five years and about six months after Geese died when Duck dragged all three of them to the beach for a "party" that was just them and a boombox. They danced around like a bunch of kids, Billy showed off his new skills, and Lily nearly beat them both in sparring. 

It was only on the way back that Billy realised he hadn't heard Lily laugh like that since he was sixteen and she'd caught him teaching some dumbshit punks a lesson in respecting Geese. 

He hadn't laughed as freely since then either, come to think of it.

It was six years, two months, and a few days after Geese died when Billy noticed he'd put his bo down an hour ago without thinking. He spent the next twenty minutes bugging Lily while she was doing accounts instead of going back for it; just to prove he could. He slept with it for the next three days but felt a bit proud of himself anyway.

It was six years and eleven months after Geese died when Billy first realised he kind of liked how Duck would dance him to the bed instead of shoving him up against the nearest wall like Geese used to. There was a weird little twist in his stomach when he realised he didn't even feel guilty about it. 

It was seven years after Geese died when Billy heard Terry was dropping by Orlando. It was the closest he'd been to Southtown in ages. Billy stared at his car keys for a long time before putting them back in his pocket and going to see if Duck needed any help.

It was seven years and about ten months after Geese died when Lily expanded Kane-Do Laundry into a new location with a regular, above-board loan from the bank. Billy bitched about how much higher the interest was than the one Geese had given out, but it was hard not to remember the price for those rates.

Hard to miss how much happier Lily was about it too. 

It was eight years after Geese died when Billy was lying in the dark, listening to Duck sleep next to him and watching headlights pass by on the ceiling, that he finally admitted that Geese had, sometimes, been kind of a prick. 

It was nine years and some months after Geese died when Billy went back to the grave. It was still festooned with offerings, but there were fewer flowers and more scraps of paper with stuff like Matthew 19:24 written on them and the kind of crappy incense you got in dollar stores. It smelled less like piss than last time. 

Billy just crouched there, smoking his cigarette and thinking. When it finally burned all the way down he stood up, bowed deeply, and walked away. 

The cigarette smoldered in the grass behind him. 

It was about ten years after Geese died when the letter showed up. Billy scanned through the flowery bullshit, caught a few phrases like "King of Fighters" and "Geese's legacy", and tossed the whole thing in the trash. He didn't have time for that crap anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all because I started bullshitting my friends about why Billy was bringing flowers to Duck of all people in the movie and accidentally sold myself on the idea. 
> 
> Turns out Billy just has a thing for men named after waterfowl.
> 
> For 100 words of moving on.


	5. Garou, Terry & Rock, A/B/O

Terry feinted with a couple quick jabs then came in with a good solid straight that got caught and deflected without a hint of trouble. The follow-up axe kick had picture-perfect form but went wide, brushing his shoulder instead of hammering his collarbone. He grinned and jumped back before Rock could recover. "Great counter! But you gotta aim it better, hit me where it hurts! Take out my whole arm next time!" 

Rock shook his bangs out of his face, grinned back, and rushed in with that nasty elbow strike he'd been working on.

Terry blocked, went for a sweep that connected, and pulled back to give Rock time to get up. God, but he wanted a real fight. His blood was pumping, his breath was wild, and there was a heat pooling in his body that only ever meant one thing. He needed a fight, one where he was equally matched and didn't have to hold back in the slightest. Mary. Blue Mary would give him the fight he craved. She always did. Terry wanted to eat dirt, hear his joints crack, throw out his strongest punches and feel them connect on someone that could handle it. Not Rock. Kid was great, but no way Terry was going all out on a skinny little fourteen-year-old barely hitting his growth spurt.

Terry ducked a roundhouse aimed at his head - a bit wobbly, and he called that out even if Rock's expression said he'd already noticed - and went for jab that missed. Kid was fast as hell, and Terry told him that too. That just got him a snort, because Rock still hadn't figured out how to take a compliment. Oh well. 

Mary would've had him on the ground by now and Terry let Rock practice some rapid strikes on his forearms while he imagined the fight he wished he was having. One where he'd get knocked off his feet and tackled, his opponent's hold too much to break. One where he needed every trick to come out on top, where he could get punched so hard he'd feel it days later, where his knuckles would sting for the next week.

A fight like Geese. A thrill went through Terry's stomach when he blocked Rock's reppuken and remembered what Geese's had been like. Raging. Violent. Merciless. That had been a real fight, one with their lives on the line. Geese would've tossed Terry across the vacant lot earlier, grabbed him and dragged him around like a toy, pressed him into the ground with all his weight -

Terry shook that thought away and tested Rock's guard with a low kick that didn't connect. No way in hell was he dumb enough to want Geese back. He just needed to find Mary and get all these frustrations out. Get her to pin him with those strong arms, a mouth on his neck and that thick, musky smell around him and god, Geese was still the best-smelling alpha he'd ever met. 

Shit. Was that what this was? 

Rock was coming in with a pretty good attempt at a power dunk and Terry was distracted enough to forget to pull his uppercut as much as he meant to. He hit the kid's chest and felt all the air come out at once, Rock crumpling around his fist. Terry barely managed to catch him and stand him on his feet. 

"Rock? You okay? Hey!" Terry kept a tight grip on Rock's shoulders and hoped he hadn't actually hurt the kid. Rock was tough, but...

Rock drew in a shuddering breath and looked up at Terry with bright eyes. "Again! Harder!"

Terry had to laugh at that one. "Sorry kid, I'm getting hungry. Let's eat, then maybe later we can do some more." He gave Rock's shoulders a final pat and stepped away. Suppressants were in the bag, next to the stew that had been simmering all during their little spar. With any luck they'd hit him fast like they always did and he'd be clearheaded again in an hour or two.

"But you finally stopped holding back! Come _on_ , Terry, I can take it!"

"Geez, kid, you want to get me arrested? I'll step it up when we're on the train, okay? Right now let's eat." The heat was still seething under his skin, telling him to go find someone else, someone that could give him a good fight. Someone who'd take care of the tension in his stomach and the twitch in his hands. Terry silently told it to shut up. He'd give Mary a call at the next pay phone and if she wasn't around, well...tough. 

Rock started fussing over his stew while Terry rifled through the bag. His clothes, Rock's clothes, towel, first aid kit...no little bottle. Terry cursed under his breath. It had to be in here somewhere.

"Hey! What're you looking at?!" Terry looked up at Rock's shout, then over to see some guy staring at them. Guess it wasn't every day he saw a couple vagrants cooking in a empty lot. Rock kept glaring at the man and his hair probably would've fluffed up if it had been able. "Just keep walking!"

"Knock it off," Terry said, still pawing through the bag. Rock had been in a weird mood all day, like he wanted to pick a fight with the whole world. Terry couldn't blame him, had been the same way at that age, but right now it was pretty irritating. He gave a friendly wave to the man and a warning look to Rock, who had the decency to flush and go back to his cooking. 

The man left, hopefully not to call the cops, and Terry went right back to searching. Where the hell was it? The advantage of being able to fit all his worldly possessions into a single canvas bag was having them readily available, but right now the vitally important suppressants were dodging all his attempts to find them and the back of his mind was still happily reminding him about how great it would feel if he could fight Geese again, right here and now. 

"Here." Rock held out a bowl of stew with both hands, like a peace offering. "Beef bourguignon."

"What?"

"Well, it's not really...okay, it's really just beef stew with potatoes and onions. And some other stuff I scrounged up." Rock wasn't quite meeting Terry's eyes, apparently embarrassed about his little outburst. Good, maybe the mood was passing and he was ready to go back to being quiet around strangers. "It should taste pretty good anyway." 

"Hey, if it tastes as good as it smells it'll be delicious. Just give me a sec here..." Terry finally hit the bottom of the bag and found the little bottle he was looking for.

The little empty bottle.

Well _shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruining this nice little fandom neighborhood, 1000 words at a time. I'm in ur fandoms, lowering ur...property values? I didn't think this metaphor through.
> 
> Written for 100 words of heat coming on. Let us also imagine this is a world where alphas go into rut, which is shown by getting really territorial and nest-building. Or making nice meals, if there aren't any nests around.
> 
> This is where I threaten you all with the sequel.


	6. SNK Heroines, Terry and Mai

Terry kicked high, swayed dizzyingly, overbalanced and fell right on his ass. "Arrggh! I just can't get used to this body!"

Mai, who had offered to be his sparring partner but seemed to consider that to mean "stand around and make smart remarks", tapped her fan against her chin. "And here I thought you were the strongest in the world for awhile."

"I was, back when I had my real body! It's...it's these!" He grabbed his now-ample bosom and squished it in irritated frustration. "They bounce around and mess up my balance! I don't know how you do it."

"Practice." She gave Terry a long look up and down as he got up and dusted himself off. He still moved like a guy, even stuck in a woman's body. "I'd think kicking would be easier now, at least."

"Huh? Why?" 

Mai flicked her fan open and held it delicately in front of her mouth. "Well you don't have...bits...getting the way anymore. I was never sure how you guys do it." Her eyes tracked down to the crotch of Terry's jeans. They were still hanging open, despite constant attempts to button them. 

"You can say 'balls', I know you're not shy," Terry grumped. "And...practice."

"How dare you! I am the flower of Japanese maidenhood! Oh by the way, be a dear and pick up that fan I threw? It's right behind you."

"Yeah, sure." 

Mai watched Terry turn around and bend over with a satisfied eye, then gave what she was pretty sure was a hidden camera a wink and grin. "See that, dumbass who put us here? I'd better get copies of these recordings!" 

"What the-?! Mai, you, you... I'm gonna burn every single damn one of them, hear that?!" Terry glared at the camera, at the snickering Mai, and at the world in general before flopping forward with a sigh. "God, I wish this had happened to Andy... You wouldn't pull half this shit with him."

"I wish Andy was here too! We'd be fighting side-by-side, and I could do his hair, and teach him _all about_ his new body..." Mai sighed long and happily. Her eyes unfocused as she wandered off into a world only she could see. 

Terry gave Mai A Look. "That's my little brother you're talking about, you know."

"Oh, but we'd definitely have to destroy all the cameras-"

"You'd do it for him?! No, of course you would, forget I said anything." Terry made another failed attempt to button up his jeans before throwing his hands up and stalking towards the nearest exit. "Let's get going, I want out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply appreciate that Mai's first reaction to seeing Rule 63 Terry is to laugh her ass off and then repeatedly ask for pics. 
> 
> She deserves so much better than Andy, though. Move on to King already!


	7. Garou - Jenet, Hotaru, and Gato

"All right then! I'll let you look up to me!"

Match won, Jenet turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. The view was nice, but she had more opponents to fight on the way to all the lovely treasure! Best to get a quick start!

"R-Really? Wait!"

Jenet turned around more out of curiosity than anything else. Her recent opponent was picking herself up off the ground - with great care and delicacy, true - but she was already on her feet and swaying gently. That was way faster than most people Jenet knocked down! Well, she could hang around for a bit longer.

"Huh? What's up, toots?"

"It's just...you seem so cheerful and confident all the time. I'd like...I'd like some tips, please!"

Oh, the poor dear! Looking at her as a girl and not an opponent showed someone young and cute, but shy. She'd been pasting a smile on earlier, but looking into the girl's wide eyes now made Jenet remember the cracks around the mask. She'd known a lot of girls like that back home. Empty-eyed little things that just did what they were told...not becoming one of those was why she'd run away.

Well she could help with that, or she wasn't the leader of the Lillen Knights!

"Of course! Well, the first rule to getting confidence - is to act confident!" 

The girl's face fell. 

"No no, it's true!" Jenet hastened to explain. "Just hold your head high. Like this." She demonstrated with her natural poise. "Chin up, chest out like you're going to take on the world! Come on, do it with me, there's a girl!" The girl obediently stood up straight and raised her chin, though the chest out...well, she was young yet. Those things had a way of taking care of themselves. "Don't hide your arms behind your back. Cross them if you have to, but on your hips is better. And then...walk like you're not afraid of anything. Like anything out there should be afraid of _you_!"

The girl took a few hesitant steps forward, but Jenet was pretty sure most of the problem was leftover from the fight. If she'd known, she would've gone a little easier on the girl...though thinking about it, going easy might've cost her the fight. The girl might be shy, but she packed a punch. That would probably help with the walk later. It was nice when everything worked out!

"...is that all?" the girl asked. 

"It's the start!" Jenet rested her hand on her hip and considered. Shy, pasting on a smile...but a driven and skilled fighter. The real problem there was the shyness...or whatever it was. The girl was meeting Jenet's eyes with no problem, but there was something in there she just couldn't catch. "You just have to do it _all the time_ , okay? Make it a policy to never back down, never stutter, and always speak your mind!" 

"O...oh... Er, I'll try! Thank you!" 

"Hm...what do you say to having some fun? Put all this into practice?" It might be a little underhanded, but Jenet was a pirate. Her mother had sworn by yoga and healthy eating for getting in touch with her true self, while Jenet had just never hidden it away in the first place. But Jenet had welcomed more than one shy, retiring young crewman into the Lillen Knights, and she knew one thing for sure. 

There was nothing like a drink for breaking down barriers! 

"Fun?" The girl blinked at her, then cast her eyes down. "That...I should be looking for someone..."

"Hey! What did I just say? Eyes forward! Speak up! Tell me clearly!"

"Ah!" The girl raised her chin and looked Jenet straight in the eye. "I'm looking for someone. I appreciate the offer, but-"

"No problem!" Jenet cut her off without a second thought. "We'll be going out with my crew! With all the boys keeping an eye out and hitting every bar in town, if the person you're looking for is here, we'll find them!"

The girl didn't seem to know how to react to that one. "Ah...wait, bars? I can't drink yet! I'm 16!"

"Don't worry, you can stick to beer and wine," Jenet said as she swept a friendly arm around the girl's shoulders. "Besides, our party pooping old man - Jacques, I'll introduce you - won't let you get too drunk. So come on! Have some fun! Live a little! Life's too short to be sad!"

"I don't think he'd be in bars...oh...oh fine! I'll come!" The girl was managing to keep up with Jenet's stride, which was pretty impressive. They were galloping down the stairs together and Jenet could already taste the rum she was going to have.

"Great! And if we don't find him here, you can join my crew! There's no life like the Lillen Knights!"

"W-what?!" 

* * *

Gato was not sulking.

He paced the filthy streets of Second Southtown alone with his thoughts, cursing his failure and inadequacy, but that wasn't sulking. Merely recognizing the vagaries of fate. 

He had come here to hone his skills and find the trail of his father in this world-class fighting tournament, and all he'd done was get knocked out by some skinny little punk that had the temerity to preach to him afterward. "You can't live by hate alone"? Nonsense. Gato had been living by hate for the past six years and it hadn't led him wrong yet. The hate made him, propelled him forward on his lonely road, gave form and function to his life. And it was by that hate that he'd achieve his goals. If not today, then tomorrow, or next month...however long it took to bring that bastard down.

He was stalking down the piss-soaked alley, listening to the rumble of the train and the whistle of the wind when he felt it. A dark presence, lurking nearby...not his quarry, but what did that matter? Beating a fool into the dirt would ease the shame of his failure. Gato stepped into the shadow of the underpass, ready for anything.

"That-That'sh him! My brother! Broooooooootheeeeeeeeeeeeer!"

Gato spun around, the familiar voice cutting into his dead heart, yet- strange. Hotaru wasn't that loud. Wasn't she?

The figure stumbling towards him was bigger than the Hotaru he remembered, but that was no surprise. What was a surprise was her dress, her attitude, her company...and the fact she absolutely _reeked_ of alcohol. 

"Brother! I misshed you scho much! Thiiiiiiiis much!" The figure - it couldn't be Hotaru, it just couldn't be - reached him, arms spread out wide. Her face was flushed a cherry red and she was swaying on her feet. The loose-fitting martial arts clothes he remembered had been replaced with- with scraps and rags. She was barely covered by a ragged old shirt that showed off her stomach, an equally ratty pair of pants cut off well above the knee, and a loose belt with - was that a _knife_? 

"That's him? Great! I told you, didn't I? I did!" Some blonde woman ran up and grabbed Hotaru around the waist, spinning the pair around in a drunken dance. She was only slightly better dressed, but smelled even more strongly of alcohol. 

"You did!" Hotaru was laughing and crying. "Brother! Come home with me!"

"Later! Right now, more booze! We gotta celebrate! Yahoo!" A chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd of seedy-looking men behind the pair of women, complete with wild barking from a mangy-looking dog. The women started cheering too.

Gato had no idea what to do.

His mother had told him, long ago, that it was his duty to protect Hotaru. He was older, he was the brother, it was up to him to look after her. He took that duty very seriously, and therefore had cut off all contact when he realised the path he had to take. The safest place for Hotaru was far away from the man he had become.

Except now she was drunk, in disreputable company, and he did _not_ like the way the blonde woman was hugging his sister.

The dark presence stirred. Thank the heavens. This was something he could handle.

"All of you, leave. This does not concern you." He'd defeat the presence...and then quietly take care of the fools around Hotaru. Simple. An assassin's art was exactly what the situation called for.

Until the blonde woman rushed forward, yelling. "Who's there? You got something to say, you come out and say it!"

And then Hotaru grabbed him, nearly bringing them both down. "Wait, brother! Don't...don't go! You gotta schtay!"

The men were cheering the woman on, the woman was getting ready to fight _Gato_ 's prey, and Hotaru was crying into his shoulder with the free tears of a drunkard. 

How had he gotten into this mess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hotaru deserves a party, you know?


	8. Real Bout, Geese->Terry

Terry lay on the floor, beaten, bloody, and half-conscious. 

But still alive. He really was stronger than his father had been. Good.

Geese knelt on top of him, knees bracketing those narrow hips, and enjoyed the weak shudder that went through Terry's body. He managed to turn his head to look at Geese - but the eyes that had so recently shone with hatred were clouded and dim. He was probably fading in and out of consciousness, vision black at the edges, only barely aware of the hatred that sustained him...Geese knew that feeling. It had been his constant companion for all those months in the hospital, when he had spent each day in a drugged haze, clinging to one thing: revenge on the man who had reduced him, the ruler of Southtown, to such a state. 

Now that man lay beneath him and it was better than all the drugs in the world. 

Geese leaned over Terry, pushing him into the hardwood floor. He dragged a hand down Terry's chest, noting the contrast between hard muscle and swollen flesh...and the soft, hurt noises that came every time he dug his fingers into those tender injuries. No matter how Terry struggled to grit his teeth, Geese could hear those whimpers leak from the back of his throat. 

Lovely.

He had planned to kill Terry. To throw him off the tower, or to stop his heart, or to just beat him into the floor until there was nothing left but gore. 

But now the strongest man in the world, one of the only people Geese had feared, laid between his legs.

Terry didn't have to die. Not yet. 

Geese pressed his mouth to Terry's neck and began to add a new set of bruises above the already darkening necklace of fingerprints.


	9. FF, Jeff and the kids

Jeff shifted the boy's weight to his hip and fumbled in his pocket for the keys. The boy - Andy, right, quiet one Andy, loud one Terry - looked up blearily but didn't seem inclined to make a fuss about being carried. Then again, the face resting against Jeff's shoulder was burning hot. Hard to mount a protest with that kind of fever.

Even Terry seemed worn out after all the excitement earlier, to Jeff's quiet relief. He wasn't sure what he'd do with a kid that could keep that level of energy up indefinitely. The kid watched silently with his armful of stolen food cans as Jeff shoved the door open - damn thing always stuck - and led him and his brother into their new home.

"You can drop those on the table," Jeff called over his shoulder as he navigated his way through the small kitchen/living room. He really needed to clean up the counter...and the floor...at least the table was fine, because there wasn't anything to put on it. Jeff kicked a couple empty takeout boxes toward the trash and hoped the low light would cover up the cracks in the plaster. He'd have to figure out what to do about those soon.

"Wow...pretty nice place you got here, old man!" Terry had obediently laid the cans on the table and was looking around in amazement.

Then again, it was all a matter of perspective. Four walls and a roof had to seem like paradise compared to a rat-infested hole. "It does the job," Jeff replied. "You two want anything to eat?"

Andy mumbled "...not hungry..." from Jeff's shoulder, and Terry gave him a long look before shrugging with an "I'm fine," that was probably more about keeping Andy in sight than not being hungry. Well, they wouldn't starve before the morning, and the extra time would give Jeff the opportunity to buy some real food. He just nodded and carried Andy in the bedroom, Terry right at his heels.

He barely managed to get Andy's shoes and jacket off before the kid was curled up under the blankets and dead to the world, and then had to grab Terry before _he_ climbed into bed with his shoes on too. Little barbarians. Jeff resigned himself to washing the bedding first thing tomorrow, since there was no way he was getting either of them in a bathtub at this point. 

Terry gave him one last suspicious look from under the covers. "You'd better not be a cannibal or a pervert or anything," he said, but was out before Jeff could reply.

"Bit late for that, kid." Jeff sighed. Both of them were piled up right next to each other, like little puppies. It was, honestly, pretty darn cute. 

He reached out and carefully laid the back of his hand on Terry's forehead. Yep, definitely warm. Not nearly as bad as his brother, but not exactly in the pink either. Honestly, the most surprising thing was that he was running around and picking fights with adults with any sort of fever. That kid was going to be trouble for sure.

So...food, laundry, baths, new clothes, a doctor, a full set of shots...oh, and somewhere for him to sleep tonight. Jeff could already feel a headache starting behind his eyes. What had made him decide to pick them up?

Not being able to walk away. Right, right.

And they were cute. Jeff gave them one last smile as he turned to leave, paused, then ran back to grab his private magazines off the dresser. That was close. He had to find somewhere to hide those, and he had the sneaking suspicion the only safe place would be the dojo. At least any prying students would be old enough to steal them instead of asking embarrassing questions.

The pile of cans stared disapprovingly at him as he got a cup of coffee. They needed to be returned, and he needed to go grocery shopping, but even if the kids were out cold he couldn't just bail on them right away. And of course Cheng had gone back to Hong Kong and Geese...Geese hated kids and had to be knee-deep in crime by now to boot. You didn't get to be Southtown Police Commissioner without being at least a little mobbed up. 

Police...he probably had to file some kind of report. Chances were no one was looking for the kids, unwanted orphans were a dime a dozen, but it would be good to know for sure. He could figure out how to get them properly adopted while he was there too. It was probably- it was definitely going to be a lot of paperwork.

First things first. Jeff drained the cup and reached for the phone to dial a familiar number. "Hello, Master Tung? It's Jeff. Listen, I just adopted a couple kids and I need some help- Yes, two kids, no idea how old they are. Under ten. Yes, I know I only left half an hour ago!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm yes let's pick up after a manga no one else has read as interpreted by a Japanese fanfic no other English speaking fan has read. Brilliant. ...though it doesn't really matter much.
> 
> Written for 100 words of adopting an orphan.


	10. KoF universe clickbait

## FIVE THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT SPACE JAM

-by Marcus Drakken, 01/14/20XX

Lucky Glauber's strange Loony Tunes-shared star vehicle is an essential part of any 90s kid's nostalgia. We all remember the hype, the playground discussions, and that brief period of time when it seemed like Glauber was going to play basketball again. We've all slammed and been welcomed to the jam. And for the most part, we've consigned Space Jam to the dustbin of history, only to be brought out for bouts of "do you remember...?" among friends.

Allow me to be perfectly clear: this is the correct decision. Space Jam is not a good movie in any objective sense of the term. Let it live in your memories, untarnished by actually going back to watch it. But you don't have to tear away the fuzzy sense of nostalgia to enjoy finding out five strange facts about the movie we all loved as kids.

#### 5\. The website is still up

Yes, the [1997 official Warner Bros Space Jam website](https://www.warnerbros.com/archive/spacejam/movie/jam.htm) is still up and running, just like it was back in the day. If you miss frames, florescent backgrounds, and tiny, blurry Quicktime movies, then go roll around in some primo Geocities-era web design, back when the internet was new and free and we didn't have to go through our new followers entire Twitter feeds to find out if they're a racist sack of shit or fear they're going through our history to find something they can twist into proving we're the asshole instead.

Best is the [Behind the Jam](https://www.warnerbros.com/archive/spacejam/movie/cmp/behind/behindframes.html) section, which details how they combined hand-drawn animation, live action, and godawful 90s CG into a single movie. Thrill to messy .movs showing what might be Lucky Glauber playing basketball with men in skintight green suits, if it's not the internals of a hard drinker's stomach after a night on the town. Revel in the sheer, unrelenting hubris it takes to call a confused, poorly-acted and animated advertisement like Space Jam the compact disk to actual good movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit's vinyl LP. And gawk at behind the scenes artwork where we can finally verify that no, Lola had no concept past "sexy Bugs Bunny".

#### 4\. Lucky Glauber was originally supposed to play baseball

As all American children of the 90s know, Lucky Glauber "retired" from basketball in 1994 to concentrate on martial arts. Space Jam was made when Lucky come back from karate to regain his basketball crown (right before he "retired" to go back to KoF in 1998, then unretired again, then retired for good...), but it wasn't always that way. Original drafts for the script have surfaced and they feature the sport Lucky's best with: baseball. 

It makes sense. The 90s were a time when American parents were very concerned with violence in the media, and not a lot of people wanted to risk making a movie where a celebrity gets into street fights. Pretending Lucky went into baseball instead would satisfy everyone...but the man himself. Lucky Glauber legendarily insisted on his martial arts being acknowledged, even threatening to walk and force Warner Bros to make the movie about Michael Jordan instead if the script couldn't be rewritten. Sources claim he wanted to focus on martial arts as discipline and restraint instead of mindless violence, but we're pretty sure he actually just wanted someone to care about his repeated attempts to get into The King of Fighters.

#### 3\. That crack about baseball was ad-libbed

But Lucky wasn't going to pretend he wasn't good at baseball. Even though he never played professionally, his amateur records show he had a batting average of .276 and an RBI of 72, stats that blew other basketball-and-baseball player Michael Jordan out of the water. And they both knew it, as shown by Glauber's famous "hey Mike, I'll see you on the diamond" line at the end of the movie. This line was completely ad-libbed, and all the reactions to it are real. It's unknown if Jordan punched Glauber the second the cameras stopped rolling like we all secretly believed as kids, but if he did, we're betting the guy who can kill a man with a basketball won.

#### 2\. The fight with Joe Higashi was real

And speaking of real fights, the match with long-time Muay Thai world champion Joe Higashi at the beginning of the movie was 100% real. No choreography, no pulled punches, nothing. Lucky and Joe legitimately beat the shit out of each other in front of a camera and it was turned into a nationally-distributed movie. It's one of the things that both explains why modern movie fight scenes look so bad and why we have fight choreographers. It was also a miserable nightmare for the makeup artists, since Lucky got a number of bruises off Joe and they had to consistently maintain every single one, with no slipping or fading, for the rest of the filming. Even on a vastly reduced shooting schedule that was a herculean undertaking.

Interestingly, while Joe isn't known for any sort of acting career over here in the States, his Joe the Champ series of films are big hits in his adopted home country, Thailand. They've been churning out one a year for over a decade now with no slump in popularity, and you can pretty easily get all sorts of Joe the Champ merchandise from the internet. Ever want Joe saving a girl from a gigantic crocodile on your bedsheets? _It can be yours_.

#### 1\. Heavy D! and Brian Battler's cameos are deeper than you know

Sure, Heavy D! and Brian Battler teleport in to save Lucky Glauber from the evil Mon-Star's grapple at the end because they're pals, right? They say it in the movie. But it's also a completely legitimate tactic under The King of Fighters rules, and that's the joke none of us dumb little kids whose parents wouldn't allow us to stay up late and watch bloodsports got. 

See, in KoF teammates mostly have to stay on the sidelines cheering their friends on, but if the current fighter is in a locked position (as detailed in The King Of Fighters Official Rulebook, page 26, subsection 3 and yes, underground no-holds barred fighting tournaments that are put on at the behest of shadowy masterminds have official rulebooks that dozens of people argue over each year, why would you think they didn't) a teammate may jump into the match in progress to save him/her. They can do this from any position, which explains the shower joke in Space Jam, but they are also not _required_ to do so. Which is why Korea took the fall in '96 when Chang decided he was more interested in picking his nose than saving Kim Kaphwan from Wolfgang Krauser. Yes, that happened. It's on Youtube, if you want to see an entire country's dreams die at once.

_Marcus Drakken swears he's a long-time sports fan who did not have to look up what the hell an RBI is to write this article. Read his other articles for DorkLife here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It fucks me up how no member of the American Sports Team has their profession as their forte in sports.


	12. Pre-Garou, Grant

It was all Kain's fault. Stupid Kain. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Kain.

Abel sprinted through decaying buildings and filthy alleyways to La Familia's lair. Because that was where Kain was, and that meant it was where Abel belonged, no matter what. Even if Kain was leaving Abel behind to do the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his /life/ -

The run-down brick building La Familia used as their headquarters loomed over Abel, and he ducked inside an alleyway before the two lazy-looking guards outside noticed him. One of them raised his blank, cow-like face and moved it up and down the street; Abel pulled himself behind an overflowing dumpster before the idiot saw him. All Kain's fault. All of it.

He considered going to Marie. La Familia was nothing before the Howard Connection. With the right word they could be swept away like trash in a hurricane, and Abel had access to the women who could drop that word in the right ear. Well. He probably had access. If he could convince the guards he really was Marie's little brother like he basically was, and if she was still allowed to see him when she was locked up in that tower. It was a lot more possible than what Kain was doing. 

No. No way in hell. He was a man now, and strong, and he and Kain were going to change the city. He didn't need to go begging at Geese Howard's feet. He didn't need Marie to comfort him anymore. The next time he saw Marie it would be to rescue her. He and Kain had promised.

He should've made Kain promise to wait until they were bigger. 13, maybe. But Kain had hared off to catch Don Papas' eye as soon as he could toss sparks from his hands and it had worked, and the next thing Abel saw was Kain getting in that smooth black car and the only thing he could do was run after it all the way to here. 

It wasn't a surprise Don Papas liked Kain. Everyone knew the Don liked beautiful things. Art, women, kids...

Stupid Kain.

Abel knew he wasn't pretty like Kain and Marie. His hair stuck out like straw instead of laying flat and golden, his nose was too big, his eyes were a muddy sort of green-brown instead of bright, eye-catching red, and he didn't have a lick of grace in his whole body. 

But he was strong. Strong enough to break bricks, strong enough to lift Kain and himself, strong enough to take on full-grown men and win. Men like those stupid guards.

Don Papas wanted strong fighters? Fine. He'd get the very very best. And no matter how long it took, he'd learn in the end. Kain and Abel would carve the lesson into his body. 

Southtown could only be ruled by the strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'll write a fic with Grant where I use that name instead of it all being in the way past with a name no one recognizes.


	13. Buriki One, Ryo

"Mr. Ryo Sakazaki. Very pleased to meet you, please sit down." The World Grapple Tournament representative had a firm handshake and a calm, businesslike demeanor. The office was open and bright, with a computer on the desk, a few plants scattered around, and a well-worn carpet. Absolutely nothing suspicious about it at all.

Ryo returned the handshake and sat down, as requested. "So, uh...why'd you call me here, Mr...?"

"Takeda. Jiro Takeda. And, well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..."

"But?" The hesitation was starting to make Ryo antsy. Far as he knew, the World Grapple Tournament and his participation in it were both completely above board. 

"We're familiar with your participation in the various The King of Fighters tournaments over the years, from 1979 to 1991. Your performance in all of them was very impressive. But there's something that needs to be emphasized about this tournament in particular." Takeda straightened in his desk and looked directly at Ryo, who shifted a bit under the steady gaze. "The World Grapple Tournament is a perfectly normal athletic contest."

Ryo blinked and scratched his beard. "Uh, sure. Of course. I got that. Don't see what that's got to do with me." 

"What I mean, Mr. Sakazaki, is that channeling your ki into a visible force for the purpose of assaulting your opponent from a distance is strictly forbidden."

"Eh?"

"No fireballs, ice balls, energy balls, or similar techniques are allowed and, if used, will result in an immediate disqualification. Only standard, _normal human_ karate techniques will be allowed. If there is a question of who won, a panel of judges will decide according to a set of regulations agreed upon by an international regulatory body. There will be no demons, shadowy masterminds plotting world domination, clones, or blood feuds. Do you understand?" Takeda slammed a hefty-looking binder onto the desk with a distinctly final thunk. "These are the regulations, I expect you to follow them! Is that clear?"

"Uh...yeah, sure." Ryo tentatively reached out and took the binder, careful as if any sudden movements would cause an explosion leaving little Takeda fragments all over the nice office. "A regular tournament, huh... Didn't think they had those anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You gotta feel sorry for anyone trying to run a legitimate fighting tournament in the SNK-verse.
> 
> Since this is Buriki One fic, I allowed Fatal Fury: Wild Ambition to be canon just this once.


	14. KoF, King/Mai

"-hasn't even looked at me lately! It's all about the students and the tournament and training and, and, and... Aaaaaaaah, Andyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!"

King turned a well-practiced deaf ear to her teammate's drunken complaining. It happened every year. KoF came around, Mai came around, Mai went straight for the appletinis, King got an earful of Andy's continuing failure to notice the gorgeous woman throwing herself at him. This year Mai seemed especially put-out, something about a rock that was as big as she was? King was fluent in Shitfaced Shiranui Mai, but she'd missed a few key phrases and hadn't bothered to catch up.

"...youth is fleeting." Mai's chin was on the bar. King was going to have to cut her off soon. "Soon, all of mine will be dried up and gone. Did you know his voice is starting to change? It cracks in the middle of all his kiais. It's so cute but, but, but I remember when he was just a squeaky little kid and now he's almost a man and what does that make meeeeeeeeeeeeee?"

"Whose voice is starting to change?" 

"I _told_ you, Rock's is. He sprouted like a weed and now he's as tall as me and his voice is changing and pretty soon he'll be in KoF too!" She waved her drink around for emphasis, then, realising it was sloshing dangerously close to the rim, took a big gulp.

King filled a glass with water and placed it in front of Mai as a hint, which Mai failed to take. "And Rock is...?" she prompted.

"Terry's kid. Adopted him around...around...six years back? Seven? '95, how many years ago was '95?" Mai's eyes flickered blearily around the bar like it had the answers. When it failed to provided them, she started counting on her fingers. 

"Terry has a kid?" King said, surprised. Everyone knew Terry Bogard loved kids - it was impossible to miss the crowd of ankle-biting admirers - but she hadn't known he had one of his own. But now that she thought about it...the kid she'd seen tagging at Terry's heels for the past few tournaments had seemed a bit too familiar to just be a fan. "How'd Mary react? She doesn't strike me as the maternal type." 

"They sat down and had a sensible adult conversation about it and mutually decided to stay friends until Rock's on his own." Mai stared at her glass, voice downcast. "...I've never had an adult conversation with Andy..."

 _I don't think that's Andy's fault._ King internally chided herself for being cruel. Mai was silly and flighty, but she knew how to be serious when the situation called for it. _Besides, it's not like I'd ever pick Terry as someone to have an adult conversation either._

"Anyway," Mai rallied again, "Rock's big and he still won't stop calling me Aunt Mai! I keep telling him to call me "sis" but he won't, the little brat."

"If he's Terry's kid, aren't you his aunt by definition?" 

"No!" Mai blinked. "Yes! But...no. I would be, if Andy would just accept me! But no matter what I do he keeps running away and do you know how many years it's been? I swore I'd marry him before I even met Terry and now Terry has a kid and that kid is as big as I am and Andy still won't marry me! He's a coward!" She swayed with the strength of her declaration, right before she swayed too hard and burst into tears. "I didn't mean that! I'm sorry, Andy!"

King rubbed her temple. She could feel a headache coming on. _Next time, cut Mai off two drinks earlier_ , she thought, and ignored how she vowed the same thing every year. Lacking better options, she patted Mai on the shoulder and thanked her lucky stars the bar was nearly deserted at this hour. 

Maybe it was the headache, maybe it was that Mai had been pulling this routine since '95, but King opened her mouth to speak the words she'd never had the gumpton to before. 

"Mai...why are you so set on Andy? A gorgeous woman like you could have any man she wanted. You don't have to keep chasing after someone that doesn't want you."

That stopped the waterworks. King could almost see the gears turning in Mai's head as she tried to come up with an answer. "He's handsome," she finally declared.

"Ah, but there are many handsome men out there," King replied.

Mai took a minute to digest that. She came back with "He's nice..." in a slightly more uncertain tone.

"There are nice men too. Rarer, yes, but you'd have the pick of the litter." _If you can bring yourself to sort through the chaff_ King added in her head and didn't mind the mixed metaphors. Mai could handle herself against her fans, she knew how to take out creeps.

Mai paused for the longest time yet. She swayed gently on her seat. Then, in a small voice, she said: "...he's not interested in me."

"Eh?"

"He was the first man to ever resist my charms," Mai explained. "So I had to have him...do you get it?"

King most certainly did not. Some incomprehension must have shown on her face, because Mai kept going. "He wasn't interested, so I had to _make_ him interested. The Shiranui arts never fail! ...except they did."

"The thrill of the chase?" King hazarded, which got a vague sort of nod from Mai. She resisted swearing. "Mai, did you ever think about what you were going to do if you caught him?" A metaphor involving coyotes and roadrunners appeared before her. She let it remain unsaid.

"Marriage is a woman's happiness!" Mai declared, clearly now on firmer ground. "We'd get married and have children and carry on the Shiranui ninja arts and it would be perfect!"

"I don't see how a woman's happiness is any different from a man's..." King muttered. _Poor Andy. I'd run away too._ She took a minute to try and work her thoughts into the completely foreign framework of Shiranui Mai. "Mai, have you ever considered that it might be you chasing Andy that's making him run away?"

Mai stared like this had never occurred to her before. "You mean I'm coming on too strong?"

"I'm saying that if you put the brakes on, you might be able to have that adult conversation. Then you can find out what Andy actually feels." _And for your sake, hope it's not "get this crazy woman away from me"._

"Skittish prey requires a still hunter..." Mai muttered to herself.

"And in the meantime, you can find out what you actually want." At Mai's look of bewilderment, King gave another push. "Catching someone doesn't mean you'll have a happy marriage, right? You need to think of yourself and what you need. Experiment. Try someone else. You're still young. Why not have some fun on your own terms?"

"Experiment...fun..." Mai sunk deep in thought. She sipped at the water in front of her, giving King the chance to pull away the remains of her drink. It seemed like the idea was taking root. King gave a pleased little hum and started to wipe down the bar, giving herself over to the familiar concerns of bartending. It was getting time to announce last call. 

By the time she had worked her way back over to Mai, the ninja was sitting much straighter on her stool and her water needed refilling. King took the liberty of doing so while Mai spoke. "You're absolutely right, King. I'm going to have a fling! After all," she smiled the slightly-too-bright smile of the drunk and tossed her hair back with an airy wave "if your way is blocked by a stone, flow around it!"

"That's the spirit," King said, and was about to move off again when a hand landed on her elbow. She turned back to Mai and-

-wow. Mai was leaning forward, her deep, dark eyes focused on King's with an intensity usually reserved for battle. Her lips were pushed forward into a little pout that caught the dim light and invited touch to see if they were as soft as they looked. Her sleek, shining hair framed the edges of her face like ravens wings, her cleavage pushed up from her tight, form-fitting dress, and her perfume floated around them like smoke on a cool night. 

King's knees knocked together. Were these the Shiranui techniques? Why the hell was Mai using them on _her?_ Not that she minded...well, she did mind, this wasn't what she had meant, but it was hard to think of a good reason to mind when Mai's dark eyelashes were so clearly outlining her beautiful eyes. She'd never seen Mai like this before. 

Mai tugged at King's elbow, drawing them closer across the bar. Like this King could smell the alcohol from three appletinis on Mai's breath, but it hardly seemed to matter right now. "No time like the present, right? I always thought...that if I couldn't have Andy, I'd like someone like you, King."

"Y-yeah?" King was pretty used to women's attentions and usually enjoyed them, but something about the way Mai looked right now made her feel like a flustered teenager. 

"You're handsome, you're kind, you're strong..." 

"You're-" _drunk_ King started to say, but that would ruin the moment and suddenly she didn't want to do that. She could feel her heart beat and it was telling her to go for it. Her brain was still telling her to think about what they'd do in the morning, but it was fighting a losing battle and they both knew it. 

If Mai even remembered in the morning they could deal with it then. 

Mai smiled, slow, lazy, and inviting.

King leaned forward and tasted the apple juice on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I want him because he doesn't want me" is about the only explanation I can come up with for why Mai would be so devoted to Andy.


End file.
